


My Humblest Congratulations on the Intercourse

by plumantis



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (that needs to be their motto lol), Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Begging, Bondage, Gags, Kink Meme, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Magic Revealed, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With the Barest Pretense of Plot, banter in bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 10:59:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13809771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumantis/pseuds/plumantis
Summary: After one too many magical interventions right in the middle of a bandit attack, Arthur has had enough. Hewillget Merlin to admit his magic, one way or the other. Lucky for him, Morgana might just have the idea that saves the day...





	My Humblest Congratulations on the Intercourse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pelydryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pelydryn/gifts).



> This was written for a prompt on [Kinks of Camelot](https://kinksofcamelot.livejournal.com/). I don't claim it's a masterpiece but oh well hopefully it does its job anyway :^)

Arthur was silent on the way home. On the outside, he made for an impassive figure, sitting upon his horse with his back straight, head held high and his face drawn into a stoic frown. But on the inside, he was stewing.

Once again Merlin had proven just how lowly he regarded his own life. What had he been thinking, performing his little tricks like that when every one of the knights could have seen? There had been no need for it, either—Arthur had had everything under control, had sensed that bandit approaching from behind, dammit. Just how oblivious did Merlin take him for?

He suppressed a sigh. This entire affair was going to draw him bonkers. He wanted to pull his hair out, yell and smack some sense into his manservant. Ask him why he acted as if his own wellbeing was worth nothing, when it was everything to Arthur. It—

No. He could not. Merlin had still not told him about the magic.

How was he supposed to trust a man with his feelings, when that man did not even trust Arthur not to have him executed?

When the entourage rode through the castle gates into the courtyard, Arthur jumped down from his horse unceremoniously. Merlin rushed over to assist him but he scowled, brushing his servant aside.

It earned him a surprised gasp. “Sire! Are you…?”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

Before Merlin could reply Arthur marched past him, towards the stairs leading into the citadel.

***

“Alright, what’s crawled up your arse today?” said Morgana, bursting into his chambers without knocking.

Arthur looked at her from his spot on the windowsill, and raised an eyebrow.

“I beg your pardon?”

She hummed softly as she drew closer, and came to a halt barely a foot in front of him. “You’ve been more crabby than your usual self at dinner earlier.”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest. Morgana held up a hand.

“Don’t think I don’t know you, Arthur Pendragon. Normally you’d never miss a chance to brag about your exploits with the knights. _And_ I just so happened to overhear your manservant complaining to my maidservant that you’ve been an insufferable prat all day. So I repeat, what’s crawled up your arse?”

Resigned, Arthur closed his eyes. There was no use in trying to dissuade her. She would not let this go until she got what she wanted to hear. “It’s… it’s Merlin. He’s been using his magic in presence of the knights again. Of me.”

“I see. So he hasn’t told you yet?”

“No, obviously.”

Morgana tsked. “Well, that’s entirely your own fault.”

“What?” Arthur couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How is it _my_ fault if _he_ doesn’t trust me?”

She rolled her eyes, heaving a deep sigh. “Brother dearest, do I have to spell everything out for you? If he hasn’t told you that means you’ve not given him a reason to trust you yet. Obviously.”

“ _No reason_?” he repeated with indignance. “You have no idea—I tried everything. From subtle hints, to trying to catch him in the act, to blatantly startling him so he’ll use his magic out of reflex. But the only results that’s gotten me is probably a few grey hairs, from constantly having to listen to his shabby attempts at lying, and a swollen toe from when he dropped my armor on it in surprise.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen. It’s not like you’ve overexerted yourself so far, is it?”

“E-excuse me?”

Morgana sent him a knowing smirk. “You’ve not tried _everything_ yet. There is ah… one more thing I suppose could work, to make him lose control over his magic.”

“And what, pray tell, is that?” Arthur massaged his temples, feeling the early signs of a throbbing headache.

“Let’s just say… some people have very interesting reactions when they’re lost in the throes of passion.” Morgana turned around, and threw her hair over her shoulder in an exaggerated arch. “Good night, brother dearest.”

“Wait, what do you mean throes of—” He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Before he could say anything else, she had already sashayed out of the room again, slamming the door shut as suddenly as she’d opened it.

Arthur stared after her, dumbstruck. Was she implying what he thought she was implying?

***

Later that evening, Arthur ordered one of the guards in the hallway to have Merlin report to his chambers.

A few minutes after that, a slightly disheveled manservant stumbled into the room, sending him an annoyed look. “What could so important that you would call me at this hour, _Sire_? I had already retired for the night.”

Arthur ignored the incessant babble. He seated himself on the edge of his bed. “Close the door, and come here.”

Merlin frowned dubiously, but complied.

After letting the lock fall shut he walked over to Arthur, a confused hesitance in his step. “Alright, what’s this about?” he said at last, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Arthur’s gaze trailed over his form with slow deliberation, taking in his long legs, thin frame and pale throat underneath the scarf, before finally coming to a halt on Merlin’s face. His servant’s eyes were drawn wide open, cheek flushed on one side from where he’d probably been resting it on the beddings. He tried not to linger for too long on those plush lips, drawn slightly ajar.

One more chance, Arthur told himself. He would give Merlin one more chance to tell him the truth.

“Strip,” he commanded.

Nothing was said for several moments.

Merlin stood there, eyes wide open, silent and unmoving. He was staring at him with an unreadable expression; his brown drawn together into a small crease.

Doubt started creeping into Arthur’s thoughts. He resisted the urge to bite his lips.

What had he been thinking? He was Merlin’s master—he couldn’t just abuse his position, demand such a favor from his servant. Yet here he was, commanding him to take off his clothes. What must _Merlin_ be thinking? And for Camelot’s sake, why wasn’t he saying anything?

Arthur had half a mind to take back his order, to scour his thoughts in a frantic attempt to come up with an explanation, _heck_ , any kind of excuse for uttering such an outrageous command.

Just as he was about to open his mouth again, though, to call off the entire operation before it could escalate any further, Merlin’s hand flew to his scarf.

“Alright then.”

Wait.

 _What?_ Did he seriously…?

Arthur did not get to finish his thought. Slowly, almost deliberately, Merlin undid the knot of fabric in front of his throat, making the scarf come loose.

It fell to the ground in a soft flutter.

Arthur watched it’s movement in disbelieving fascination.

Merlin had done it. He’d actually done it. He was _continuing_ to, Arthur realized in shock when his servant’s hands went further down to grab at the seams of his garments. Half of his mind was reeling; on some level, he’d never expected for Merlin to go through with it. The other half of him was in a pleasant daze. This was like all his fantasies, come to life at the snap of a finger.

The ratty jacket came next. It was thrown down unceremoniously, oh well, Arthur had never liked it. He hated the way it made Merlin drown in fabric, obstructing the view of his figure. That lovely, lovely view. What he wouldn’t give to—Oh…

The shirt fell to the ground on top of it, and Arthur had to force himself not to look for to long at that smooth, pale chest. The slim hips that he wanted to burrow his fingers into. The fine shoulders, so sharp they almost appeared sculpted, and—gods, he was totally looking for too long wasn’t he?

Quickly, Arthur’s gaze shot up again, meeting that of Merlin.

His eyes were still unreadable. He did not avert them for even a moment as his hands wandered further down, trembling slightly. He crouched down, pulled the boots off his feet. At last, he grabbed the hem of his pants. And paused. Taking a moment to let out a soft, shuddering breath.

Arthur gulped.

The fabric fell down around his legs in two soft columns, and Merlin was finally bare.

Arthur could not help his blatant staring now, with Merlin’s cock there right in front of him. It was a nicely shaped one, long and slightly curved. A bit slimmer than his own. He’d never glimpsed at someone else’s manhood before, but… it could not be helped. He would go through with this. He felt the heat rising to his cheeks at the depravity of it, making him look up again.

Merlin as well was blushing beautifully. “Well?” he murmured, something that sounded almost like sulk in his voice. “Are you just going to stand there and gawk at my bits like some measuring contest?”

Arthur scowled. That cheeky little... Well, he would not be mouthing off at him for much longer.

He drew a deep breath, steeling himself. “Get on the bed.”

“What?” Merlin was gawking at him with that idiotic expression again. The one that made him want to press him against a wall and just kiss the breath out of him. He shook his head. _Focus, damn it._ He wasn’t doing this for fun; he had to keep his goal in mind.

Merlin was still not moving. He pointed toward the surface Arthur was currently sitting on. “You mean your…?”

Arthur did not let him finish his sentence. “I said,” he growled. “Get on _the bed_. Now.”

Merlin huffed. “ _Fine_.”

He took a few steps, forward, crawling onto the sheets. It gave Arthur a nice view of his arse, cheeks round and firm and looking so soft. How he longed to put his hands on them, knead and slap until they were colored rosy red. How he—

No. He could not. This was not the point of the exercise, he reminded himself. He would not, could not let himself go.

“What now?” Merlin prompted.

He was sat in the middle of the bed now, supporting himself on his heels with his back turned towards Arthur. He’d craned his neck around to look at him. An odd expression graced his features—pupils blown wide, and his mouth slightly open.

“Now you lie down,” explained Arthur. He made a jerky hand-gesture.

“Okay.” Merlin nodded, voice a lot more breathy all of a sudden. Slowly, he let himself sink onto the covers. His arms were shaking noticeably at this point, and he was taking so. Damn. _Long._

Impatiently Arthur’s hands shot forward, pushing him down.

“Relax,” he said, gazing into Merlin’s eyes, darkened and heavily lidded. Spread out on the sheets with that look on his face, all flushed cheeks, and dark curls pooling around his head like a halo, he appeared almost… wanton. As if he was _liking_ this.

Arthur once again swallowed heavily.

“There are two rules,” he rasped, feeling the words spill out like sandy grains over his tongue. “Don’t make a sound, is the first one. Think you can quell your urge to produce incoherent babble for a few minutes?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I’d be worried about your struggle to keep up with basic sentence structure. But fine, if it helps you concentrate better.”

Arthur scowled at him. “Just shut up.”

“Yes, Sire,” Merlin quipped, rolling his lips inward demonstratively. Then his head shot up, and he opened his mouth once more. “Oh, wait! What is the second rule?”

A wicked smirk crept onto Arthur’s lips.

He leaned backward to his bedside drawer, procuring a long, silken band of rope. “The second rule is,” he said slowly, watching as Merlin’s eyes widened at the sight. “You are not to touch yourself, under any circumstances.”

Merlin was looking at him with something akin to puzzlement on his face. He opened his mouth, about to retort with what surely was to be another insubordinate remark, but caught himself at the last second. He gave Arthur a nod instead.

“Very good,” said Arthur. A strange heat pooled low in his stomach. “Hands above your head, then.”

Merlin seemed frozen for a second, but complied in the end. He moved his arms in a sluggish manner, exposing Arthur to the very exquisite view of pale inner wrists.

Determined Arthur bent forward, leaning over his servant's still form. He had to stop there for a second; the sight of him, so relaxed and ready and his hands laid out over his head _like some boon on a silver plate_ —it was too much for one man to behold. _Oh_ , and how he would claim that boon, when it was so willingly given, laid out entirely at his mercy. Arthur’s and only Arthur’s. He would have Merlin, he… No. He couldn’t, wouldn’t… he needed to—

He drew a shuddering breath, tried to get his reeling mind back on track. He felt the warmth in his belly travel down further, pumping languid as his cock grew stiff in his breeches. _Gods._ At this rate, he would finish before he’d even started.

Iron-willed and tense, Arthur finally went on, and wrapped the rope around Merlin’s wrists with careful control.

His fingertips tingled as they made contact with soft skin; he was hyper-aware of even the slightest friction. At least Merlin seemed similarly affected, quivering softly at every twitch of his muscles. It gave Arthur the disquieting feeling that the both of them were in this way over their heads, that every precarious ounce of control was rapidly spinning out of their hands as base urges took over. It a was frightening, but at the same time exhilarating thought.

He clenched his jaw and reached even further, to tie the other end of the rope to his bed frame. He took great care to test that none of Merlin’s joints were twisted or uncomfortably stretched, because there was only one thing he wanted him to focus on—he could not allow for distractions of pain.

At last, Arthur tested that the knots were secure. Yes, this would do. Merlin would not be able to free himself unless for employment of his powers.

He leaned back to survey his handiwork.

Merlin was still looking at him with those needful eyes, the first hints of perspiration forming on his forehead. He had not gone unaffected either, Arthur observed, his chest heaving and nipples perked a dark red. His arousal was standing half-erect in between his legs, leaking precome.

Well, that would definitely save Arthur some work.

He stretched his hand out again, let it trail over that smooth stomach in feathery touches, then Merlin’s thighs.

Carefully he mapped out every inch of skin, took note of each hitch of breath that left those rosy lips, swollen from having been bitten relentlessly. It was at only the leisurest of paces that he slowly circled inwards, closer and closer to his goal, but in the meantime never taking his eyes off Merlin’s face lest he miss even the slightest spark of gold.

Merlin groaned, closing his lids for a moment as he tipped his head back. “What are you waiting for, cabbage head? Get on with it!”

Instantly, Arthur withdrew his hand, leaving him with a lingering warmth at the tips of his fingers. “Remember the rules, _Mer_ lin,” he admonished. “No talking of any kind. We wouldn’t want anyone to hear and come investigate, after all. What would they say if they found you like this, all wanton and trussed up for me? Not to speak of the talk—‘the Crown Prince having his way with his poor manservant!’—I’ve a reputation to uphold.”

Merlin snorted. “Didn’t know you payed attention to the castle gossip. Do you hang around the well in the courtyard too, to hear the wash-wives ta-Ooooooh—” he did not get to finish his sentence, as in that exact moment Arthur shot forward and wrapped his hand around him in a firm grip.

“Figures _that_ would make you shut up. I swear, you’re incapable of following even the simplest instructions.”

Merlin was panting heavily, trying to catch his breath.

Arthur shook his head in mock reprimand. “But I am a benevolent master. I thought ahead to this possibility, of course, and found something to aid you in your task.”

He reached back around to his drawer, this time pulling out a smaller, thicker piece of cloth. He bunched it up into a ball. “Open wide.”

“Seriously?” Merlin huffed and raised an eyebrow, trying to crane his neck up to look at him properly. His tone seemed sceptical, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that told Arthur everything his mouth would not. “What would you need that for?”

“That’s for me to know and you to learn soon enough. Now, _open your mouth_!”

“‘Keep your trap shut, Merlin.’ ‘Open your mouth, Merlin.’ There’s just no pleasing you, is there, Sire?”

Arthur huffed. Before any more insolent mutterings could be hurled at him he lurched forward, grabbing Merlin’s chin and stuffing the cloth in his mouth. “There, there,” he said, patting Merlin’s cheek. “That’s better now, isn’t it?”

An indignant “Mmph!” left Merlin’s lips, but no words would slip past the gag.

“You really do not understand the concept of ‘quiet’, do you?”

The only answer he received was a glare. No golden sparks in sight yet. Oh, but that could change quickly; Arthur had barely begun.

“Now, were was I…?” He turned his attention to the task at hand once more—the task at hand being Merlin’s by now fully erect cock.

 _He’s actually enjoying this_ , Arthur realized with no small amount of surprise. If he’d known this before, could they have… No, better not think about the consequences his actions would bring for them. That could be dealt with at a later time, after they had addressed the metaphorical halbert in the room. Merlin’s magic.

“Oh, right,” he said finally, voice low, making Merlin twitch and shiver with anticipation in his restraints. “This little problem you have here. Today’s your lucky day, Merlin, I am incidentally feeling _very_ generous. Let me be of assistance.”

Merlin made a muffled noise that Arthur was not entirely sure was of frustration, arousal, or both.

“Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.” Arthur sighed. “So eager, you are.”

With gentleness he returned his hand to Merlin’s inner thigh, tickling and teasing the milky skin until the muscles tensed underneath his finger pads, and a soft intake of breath escaped through Merlin’s gag.

Arthur continued his stroking, made his way closer inward, to that painfully erect cock that was already leaking with pre-cum, purple, straining to be touched.

But he did not quite touch yet.

Instead, he let his gaze wander across Merlin’s lean form again—so pliant for once and, by now, trembling with anticipation. His eyes were screwed shut, head twisted to the side, giving Arthur a nice view of a sharp, flushed cheekbone, and of wet pink lips stretched wide around the thick cloth.

“You’re beautiful like this.” The words slipped past him before he fully realized what he was saying.

Merlin’s eyes snapped open again, looking at him in surprise.

“Such a sight for sore eyes. I should always have you like this, bare as the gods made you on my bed, to do with as I please. A nice change from your usual shoddy attempts at service, don’t you think?”

Merlin murmured something unintelligible, twitching and straining in his bonds. He lifted his hips in a jerky motion, trying to grind against Arthur’s hand.

Arthur pushed him down again, clamping down on his thighs in a harsh grip that made Merlin cry out.

“So impatient.”

Merlin gave a strangled groan.

This time Arthur was _very_ sure it was one of pleasure and not pain. He smirked, leaning forward to grasp Merlin’s bony hip with a strong hand. Then, he wrapped the other one around his throbbing cock.

At a leisure rate he started pumping, attention still fixed on Merlin’s face. Blue eyes looked back at him through thick, dark lashes, half lost in themselves.

No magic yet.

Almost absently he ran a thumb over the cockhead, teasing the slit. It elicited a needy “Hmm…” from that pale throat as Merlin’s adam’s apple bobbed.

The noise went straight to Arthur’s cock.

His own pants started to feel very tight as well all of a sudden. He followed the motion of Merlin’s throat closely, and bit his lips.

Increasing the pace, Arthur released Merlin’s hip again, and cupped his own noticeable bulge through the fabric of his breeches. He stifled a moan himself; he’d not expected for this entire setup to arouse him so much. But here he was—burning, blood pulsing through his veins like fire at the sight of Merlin beneath him, bound, wanton.

Gods, how he wanted to just give in to the urges, take what he wished from the man when he was laid out there so willingly. Alas, he could not. Would not. He was not doing this for his own satisfaction.

It was becoming harder and harder to keep himself aware of this fact, though.

“Uhhnnn,” Merlin moaned, and lifted his hips once more in an attempt to thrust into Arthur’s hand.

Arthur stilled his motions. “What was that, _Mer_ lin?”

Another weak jerk followed that had Merlin’s thighs trembling. When Arthur pulled his hand away, not allowing him to generate any friction of his own accord he gave a frustrated sob, muttering into the gag.

Arthur smirked. “I’m afraid you will have to speak up.”

Merlin sent him a glare.

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Arthur bent forward, ripping the gag out of his mouth again only to throw it to the ground carelessly. “I suppose I shall allow you to tell me what you want. You will have to ask politely, though.”

“Ask politely? Do you even know what that sounds likeaAaaah…”

Merlin writhed in the sheets as Arthur grabbed his cock again and twisted firmly. “I think we shall try that again. What do we say?”

He moaned, shaking his head. “Come on… I… I can’t—” He tried to buckle in Arthur’s grip, struggled against the bonds in a futile attempt to take matters into his own hands. But they would not give. “I need…”

“Yes. Tell me, Merlin. What is it you need?”

“I… I…”

Merlin gasped. His eyes were shining, though definitely not caused by magic. There was a wetness glistening on his lashes as he lowered them. “I… uhhhn.”

Arthur waited with bated breath, let his fingers dance over Merlin’s shaft ever so slightly. His other hand wandered into his breeches, pumping at his own erection in shaky strokes.

Merlin swallowed, licked his lips, still wet with saliva from the gag.

“ _Please_ , Arthur. Let me… let me come.”

It was too much.

In an instant, Arthur was on him, all thought of his mission abandoned. Grasping, thrusting, generating friction in any way that he could think of in his lust-hazed brain. They were one entity then, of limbs and skin rubbing against fabric, heat and low grunts as they rutted against each other, Merlin safely bound underneath him. Looking up at him with such trusting eyes.

Arthur couldn’t last any longer. “ _Gods_ , youre so…” He did not manage to finish his sentence as he came in his pants, trailing off into a groan.

He leaned down, wrung his hands around Merlin’s neck and drew him into a bruising kiss.

Merlin met him eagerly, opening his lips as Arthur bit into them, and making soft noises that vibrated in his throat.

Arthur tightened his grip around the slender neck possessively.

“I love you,” he murmured as they drew apart, still in a pleasant, sated daze.

Merlin drew back from him as if stung.

“You…?” he trailed off, his eyes blown wide in shock.

Then, all of a sudden, they lit up with the light of a thousand stars, and golden sparks danced all around them as Merlin came, spurting cum all across his stomach and Arthur’s shirt.

For several moments, they just stared at each other, chests heaving from exertion as the air still tingled. Arthur could feel a blissful warmth travel all the way over his body down into his toes, surrounding them like an embrace.

Basking in it, and the afterglow of their pleasure, his mind was sluggish to catch up with what had just happened.

A quiet, distressed noise called his attention back to the man underneath him.

Merlin had gone white as a sheet. Frozen. He was looking at Arthur as if he expected to be struck down any moment, his lips drawn apart—still puffy from their kiss. He opened and closed them several times before another sound came out. “Uh…”

Eloquent as usual, Arthur thought with a sigh. He opened his mouth, about to address the topic at hand himself, when Merlin finally spoke up.

“Well that was some intense uh... light’s play.”

Arthur was thrown a grin, one of those half-sheepish, half unapologetic ones that let him know another terrible lie was coming, and that usually made him want to punch something. “Could’ve been the sun? It’s been good weather these past few days. Gwen and I were already—”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“Yes, Arthur?” Merlin paused his nervous babble to look at him in trepidation.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“...Ah. It seems like that might be the case.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “So you’re not denying it?”

“Denying? Err… denying what?” A nervous laugh..

“What just happened.”

“I don’t know. What did just happen?”

Arthur scowled.

Merlin gulped and averted his eyes, but Arthur grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

His own face had grown steely, and he made sure not to move a muscle so not to betray even a single one of his inner thoughts. He would get this confession out of Merlin. Right here. Right now. “So that’s it? Just more excuses? You know you are not nearly as good as lying as you seem to think you are. Must come with the profession, I can’t say I’ve met a single sorcerer yet who has successfully grasped the concept of ‘stealth’.”

“Warlock.”

“I beg your pardon, Merlin?”

With each word that Arthur said, Merlin seemed to shrink further into himself. “I’m uh… not actually a sorcerer. I—”

That was enough. Arthur would not stand to listen to his drivel for a moment longer. “You’re serious? After all that we both just witnessed you’re still trying to deny it? How can you be so _thick_ , and yet so _alive_?”

Merlin looked at him in surprise with all the charm of a stranded fish. “N-no, I—”

Arthur did not wait for him to finish, his ire only growing. “Do you really think me so blind? That I’ve not noticed? You cast spells daily in front of my very eyes—I’ve had to cover for your sorry behind in front of my father and the knights, multiple times. For weeks, no, months I’ve been trying to get you to admit it, or at least catch you openly in the act, and now that I did _you dare to continue lying to my face_?”

He huffed and puffed, looked at Merlin with wild eyes. All the frustration and disappointment at his apparent lack of trust in Arthur was suddenly welling up, clawing its way up his throat like a nasty disease.

Merlin’s eyebrows drew together, his face stricken. “You mean to say… this was all just a ruse? To get me to admit my magic to you?”

“What else was it supposed to be, idiot? You think I regularly have my servants called to my chambers in the middle of the night to have my wicked way with them?”

“No, but I thought…” Merlin swallowed. “That, when you said you... loved me…” In lieu of averting them, he closed his eyes, as Arthur still had hold of his chin. But Arthur had seen the suspicious glimmer, and the ugly feeling in his throat only grew heavier as it dawned on him what had Merlin so upset.

“You great idiot,” he said, and claimed Merlin’s lips in another kiss, this one sweet and gentle, so unlike the one before but yet just as right.

Merlin seemed unresponsive at first, but then melted into it as Arthur’s hand let go of his chin to cup his cheek.

Arthur ran a thumb over the sharp cheekbone. “You think I would lie about something so important?”

Merlin looked at him, wide eyed.

“That I would deceive you in such a callous manner? For what purpose, to have you executed?”

A shameful flush crept across Merlin’s cheeks. “Well, no, that’s not…”

“For your information,” Arthur interrupted him, the hotness returning to his own face as well. He forced his voice to stay steady; Merlin deserved to know. “I’ve held such um… affections, that is for, er, you, for a long time. It just… slipped out, earlier.”

Merlin blinked, several times. “But. Why did you never say anything?”

Arthur threw Merlin a _look_.

It earned him a sheepish grin. “We really are a pair of idiots, aren’t we?”

“Well, I’m glad you’re admitting to your own faults, at least,” said Arthur, supporting himself by his elbows and then sitting up in a lazy stretch. “But you do realize that, me being the _prince_ , any insult to my person is treason and therefore an offense paid for by death. Which does make you quite a bit more of an idiot than I could ever be. Hypothetically.“

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Is that your prattish way of saying ‘but you’re stupider’?”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“I don’t know. I remember you quite liked hearing me talk earlier.”

“You mean when I made you beg me to let you cum?”

“...”

“...”

“Would you like a repeat performance?”

“You’re learning, Merlin. Slowly, but you are learning.”

***

Arthur managed to coax the magic out of Merlin two more times that night, until the both of them collapsed onto each other in a blissful puddle of contentment. He found himself strangely reluctant to untie the ropes around Merlin’s wrists, but, well, since it didn’t seem like Merlin was going to be averse to future encounters of such a manner, he would hold out (and make a note to devise many more elaborate schemes to elicit a reaction out of him next time).

If he pulled Merlin into his arms afterwards, none of them said anything about it, neither did they when Merlin’s tired whisper of “Love you too...” reached his ears as he drifted off into a dreamless sleep. They were not fine yet. but they would get through this. Arthur was confident.

When they woke up the next next morning, entwined into each other’s arms as if they were made to fit together, they found to their great surprise that breakfast had already been laid out for them. In the midst of cheese and bread and sausages stood an ornate honey cake, and on top of it, a small white card that read in Morgana’s elegant handwriting: “My humblest congratulations on the intercourse.”

“That hag!” Arthur crumpled up the note in his fist. “How did she find out so fast?”

“It’s witch, technically,” corrected Merlin, trying and failing to hide his chuckles even when Arthur shot him a scathing glare. “On that note, I do want you to know that I’m a warlock, not a sorcerer. I’ve had my magic since birth.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Arthur clapped him on the shoulder. “We will have a long, thorough discussion about your magic soon enough. Your careless use of it, to be specific, and tendency to risk your own life to save mine.”

Merlin sighed. “A talk is probably needed. But I cannot make you any promises—I won’t hesitate to protect you with my magic, if the need is there.”

Something warm pooled in Arthur’s stomach at the admission. He’d always known Merlin was using his magic for him, had known he was good and kind and worthy. Even in the beginning, when he’d just found out, and had been in denial about why he hadn’t reported Merlin to his father yet. But to hear it from his own mouth made Arthur all that more sure. Merlin was just as infatuated with him, as he with Merlin.

“Don’t be so quick to write anything off yet _Mer_ lin,” a small smirk danced across his lips. “Because who knows, if you do promise to be good, maybe a... reward for you might spring out of it.”

“Well, if you put it like that,” Merlin met his gaze, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. “I can’t wait for this _talk_ of yours, Sire.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most extra setup for a handjob i've ever written...


End file.
